After looking away, Ange’s gaze was drawn back as if by a magnet, irresistibly landing once more on that exquisite wooden box.
Inside, resting quietly, was no longer just an Egg, but something that could overturn her entire life.
She leaned in closer, almost holding her breath, scrutinizing the white Egg from every possible angle.
The eggshell was smooth, glowing softly beneath the bedside lamp.
At first glance, it looked no different from an ordinary chicken egg, yet it carried with it such absurd and weighty possibilities.
Becoming a Mother… When that word exploded in her mind, it brought with it a wave of ridiculous unreality.
She, Ange, former number one Demon Hunter, a soul forced to dwell in a woman’s body, could it really be possible that she would become… a mother?
Although not by any conventional means, just the thought that a life blending the bloodlines of the Phoenix Family’s Phoenix and the Gluttony Demon Lord Beelzebub might be growing inside that Egg made her scalp tingle.
What kind of being would that be? A little monster born with command over flames, harboring a devouring desire within?
Just imagining it was enough to frighten even an experienced Demon Hunter like her.
“Have you stared enough?”
Huayin’s voice, though weak, still carried its usual barbs, abruptly interrupting her reverie.
“The mighty number one Demon Hunter, thrown into chaos and completely distracted by the mere possibility of a child? Where’s your composure and decisiveness? Did a dog eat them?”
Ange didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze finally drifted away from the Egg, not toward Huayin, but into a dark corner of the room.
She took a deep breath, her voice rough and weary.
“Huayin, I told you—don’t harbor any unrealistic hopes for me.”
She paused, as if gathering her courage, then slowly turned her head, meeting Huayin’s eyes with a seriousness never seen before—and a trace of undisguisable exhaustion.
“I’m human too, not the forever-perfect, forever-powerful figure you imagine. I get tired, I get scared, and for all sorts of damned reasons… I find myself not wanting to get back up.”
Her tone dripped with self-mockery. Her right hand lifted unconsciously, fingertips gently touching her lower abdomen through a thin layer of clothing—the place where the Magic Mark lay.
“For example, this reason.”
Following her motion, Huayin glanced over. Though nothing could be seen through the clothes, she could recall every intricate, demonic line of that Mark as if it was before her eyes.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something biting, but seeing the deep helplessness and pain in Ange’s eyes, those sharp words caught in her throat and dissolved into a barely audible sigh.
She turned her head away, refusing to look at her.
After a brief silence, Ange regained her voice, this time tinged with a distinct urgency.
“So… what’s the outcome? Did this Egg… win the jackpot or not?”
Huayin shook her head, her movements slow and weakened.
“I don’t know. I can’t judge the Egg’s status myself. According to the family rules, I have to send it back. If it didn’t win, the family will return it to me. Whether I keep it as a memento or just fry it up for a snack, it’s up to me.”
“Send it back?!”
Ange reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, nearly leaping up. She latched onto the key point in Huayin’s words.
“You just said, a normal Egg is only quail egg-sized. Only… only when it hits the jackpot does it become as big as a chicken egg, right?”
“So what if it is?”
Huayin raised an eyebrow, not understanding why she was so worked up.
“Doesn’t that mean you’re telling your family everything?!”
Ange’s voice trembled with despair.
“The moment they see the Egg’s size, won’t they figure it all out?! Their precious little princess was… by me…”
She couldn’t go on. A fear called Social Death seized her heart in an iron grip.
She pressed her hands together in a desperate, pleading gesture.
“Huayin! I’m begging you! Can’t you… think of a way to cover this up? Just say… say the nutrition was so good, that’s why the Egg’s bigger?”
Huayin looked at her as if she were an idiot.
“Do you take the Phoenix Family for fools? The Egg is here, and when the time comes, I must send one back. That’s the rule. If I delay too long, the family will send someone directly. It’ll only be even uglier and more embarrassing then. Do you want to be blocked at the door and interrogated by a flock of Phoenixes?”
Ange imagined the scene—and suddenly her vision went dark.
She clutched her head in agony, nails digging into her scalp. It was over. Completely over.
Was her life really going to end with an Egg? Married for the child… joining a powerful clan… being stared at like a stud by a bunch of ancient Phoenixes…
Wait!
A flash of inspiration split through the chaos in her mind like lightning.
Leviathan! The power of the Jealousy Demon King!
She jerked her head up, a faint spark of hope reigniting in her eyes.
“Rita!” She almost shouted.
“That’s right! There’s Rita!”
Huayin was startled, frowning. “That green-haired woman? What could she do?”
“She can perform Memory Modification! Or at least, she can influence and blur people’s perceptions to a certain extent!”
Ange rattled off her explanation at lightning speed, as if hope would slip away if she slowed even a second.
“She’s a descendant of the Jealousy Demon King, Leviathan. Her greatest skill is playing with hearts and memories! If—if!—the Egg is checked and turns out to be a dud, we can ask Rita for help, have her blur the memories of your family’s relevant members. Let them think this Egg’s size is normal, or just forget to check it closely at all!”
The more she spoke, the more feasible it seemed. She paced back and forth excitedly by the bedside.
“Of course, if… if we really, unfortunately, hit the jackpot…”
Ange’s voice fell, her face taking on the look of someone going to her doom.
“Then… then there’s nothing left to say. I’ll take responsibility. If you want a wedding dress or a formal gown, that’s up to you. I’ll go pick out my lady’s suit or… whatever I can find to wear for the wedding.”
Her words carried the heroic resignation of a warrior about to sever their own hand—marching not to a wedding, but to an execution ground.
Huayin looked at this silver-haired woman, one moment in despair, the next clutching at straws, and for a moment didn’t know what kind of expression to make.
She merely turned her eyes again to the Egg sitting quietly on the bedside table.
All hopes and despair, in this moment, were pinned to this small, white Egg.